


For Thinking, Dreaming, Dying On

by BetsyByron



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Coma, Hurt, Implied Character Death, M/M, Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:28:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetsyByron/pseuds/BetsyByron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's like drowning. Drowning, in complete darkness. You know how scary water gets when you're in the dark. Suddenly it's deep and full of monsters. It's bad already when you have sand under your feet – you should know. I'm sure you remember that job in Hawaii when I talked you into a midnight swim and you were freaking out about those black waters and I laughed at you because we had walked that same innocent peaceful beach a few hours before in daylight and you said it was so boring."</p>
<p>Eames talks to Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Thinking, Dreaming, Dying On

**Author's Note:**

> If you're a reader of my other works, you know I was in a dark place a little while ago. This came out of it. I had left it in a corner, and then this weekend I got bad news again, so I "finished" it. Along with reading a lot of dark things. So well, I'm sharing this with you, sorry for the bleakness.
> 
> The title is a line (well half a line) from "Wessex Heights" by Thomas Hardy (somehow fitting right?)
> 
> Soundtrack: "Dreams" by Brandi Carlile

It's like drowning. Drowning, in complete darkness. You know how scary water gets when you're in the dark. Suddenly it's deep and full of monsters. It's bad already when you have sand under your feet – you should know. I'm sure you remember that job in Hawaii when I talked you into a midnight swim and you were freaking out about those black waters and I laughed at you because we had walked that same innocent peaceful beach a few hours before in daylight and you said it was so boring. 

But if you don't even have a ground under your feet, if it's just bottomless water and darkness and all you can think about is that you're tiring and there nothing to hang on to even if you knew what direction to go, and you know you're drowning. And you almost want to let go, because it’s so tiring, and you want to stop being scared, and you know how it ends anyway, but the instinct is too strong, and you have to keep fighting.

Anyway that's how it is inside of your head at the moment. I'm sorry I laughed at you.

Cobb did try to talk me out of it. Blah, blah, he's not in limbo, it’s not the same, blah, you can't get him back from this. Well watch me. I'm going to get you back, darling. I'm going to.

 

It always makes me sneer to hear those neuro specialists try to explain me coma when they know so little about the potential of the psyche. We travel dreams. We travel dreams so far we can get lost in ourselves and live fifty years in a handful of hours. You go have that experience and then you come back and tell me about coma, am I right? Like they know how your mind work. Even I still didn't get my head round it.

How long have I known you, ten, eleven years? It seems like forever. I can't remember a time when you weren't the most important thing in my life. What, don't pretend you didn't know, I wasn't exactly shy about it darling. You ignored it for sure, acted like it was annoying, but deep down I know you love me too. Ah, like you would have spared a moment of your time and attention for me otherwise! You are ruthless; Cobb had to review his team more than once because of you didn't he? But you never refused to work with me. I think it says a lot. Feel free to contradict me. No? Nothing? Well I'll take that as a confession.

 

I'm thinking about Hawaii again. You in your perpetual suit with your darn waistcoat – but nobody and much less me can argue it's not a good look on you – and your sleeves rolled up and your jacket slung over your shoulder, oh darling, you looked so gorgeous I forgot to even glance at all those nicely tanned and fit bodies sunbathing around us! And then, you little posh thing, you said "How boring". But you stood there, and we enjoyed the sea breeze and the sun on our faces for a moment. That's when I fell in love with you. 

For about the 30th time. Who am I kidding; I fell in love with you at first sight, and I just kept falling.

By the way darling congratulations, we're married! The doctors kept telling me you were basically screwed. And that since you didn't have a family to be found, legally it was for the hospital to take the decision to unplug you. So I told them I was. Family. I told them I was your husband – well, what's a forger to do? I forged a marriage certificate. We got married last summer in England, I thought it was more romantic. You can bash my head in when you wake up. Or we can get ourselves a real one, if you want. I wouldn't mind.

 

I'm slightly hung-over today. Last night Cobb found me sobbing over your bed – yes, darling, sobbing, like a baby, and I would be so happy to never hear the end of it from you – and forced me to “take a night off” and I was so afraid they'd unplug you while I wasn't looking. I only stayed in that bar for a couple of drinks – well, more like half a dozen, but who's counting. They didn't want to let me back into your room after that, so I slept in the waiting room. My neck is cramped, and the hospital coffee machine is truly horrible. I rather miss your high-class little French press.

Apparently I'm in denial. Cobb – you know, Cobb and Ariadne keep coming and going, I suspect they want to see how I'm doing, because I think they gave up on you. Anyhow, Cobb, who can't seem to handle crisis any other way, yelled at me. BWRAAH, Eaaames, you stupid idiot, his brain tissue was damaged, do you understand, DAMAGED! You get the picture. He's one to talk – if anybody's brain is damaged... 

 

There is something I can't quite put my finger on. How on earth did you get yourself in a car accident? You're a careful guy. More than careful in fact, you're such a perfectionist it's not even funny. You do reckless things, sure, your fair share of them, but nothing so trivial, nothing where you don’t have perfect control over all the parameters. So how did you end up meeting drunk drivers on the highway at three in the morning? Without a seatbelt? Driving the piece of crap car I told you had tired brakes and no airbags? What the hell, Arthur. It almost looks like you did this on purpose. Did you pull a Mal? Darling, did you think you'd wake up?

Darling, I really need you to wake up. I don’t care what you thought. What you went looking for. We can figure it out, we can fix things. Please, Arthur, I love you too much to lose you. I’m sorry if it’s something I’ve done. Oh, God, is it something I’ve done? I thought you were as happy as I was, darling, I really thought things worked out so well for us. I’ve loved you for such a long time, and at last I had you in my arms, in my bed, and you were never so perfect, and I thought you were as happy as I was. You looked so content, darling. I wasn’t so presumptuous as to imagine my feelings were mutual, but at least the sex was mind-blowing, wasn’t it? Well, I don’t think you’d have grounds to deny it even if you wanted to. 

So why did you leave? Whatever have I done for you to take off in the middle of the night and let me wake up to a cold bed, wake up to the phone ringing with news of you getting in a car crash? 

You’re destroying me. If you care even a tiny bit for me darling, I’m begging you to come back. People come back from comas don’t they? The human brain is such a mystery. How can they know – how can they look me in the eye and tell me you’re not going to wake up? But I make them uncomfortable. Oh, it’s not the gay thing. It’s how much I love you. They don’t get it. For them you’re a patient, just another patient in another bed, and they know their little medical facts about you, and that’s enough for them to write you off. They don’t get why I won’t give up.

Also they think that me talking to you is the equivalent of me talking to myself. But I think you can hear me. And if it’s all it does, at least you’ll have spent the last of your life hearing about being loved. I know that you still have brain activity, although it doesn’t seem enough for the doctors to hope, but it’s enough for me. So whenever you’re tired of my endless babble, do step in. Because I’ll keep talking, darling. I’ll keep letting you know how much I love you. I’ll let the world know. 

 

Although the world doesn’t really need to know, does it? I just need you to know. I can’t do anything about the darkness – I tried. But I can keep the silence away. I know you like silence. I don’t. And this kind of silence, I don’t think you’d like it either. And I need you to know. Even if you already knew, I need you to know I love you. I love you. And I’m always going to hate myself for never saying that out loud to your face before. You guessed, but I didn’t say it. I knew from the moment I met you, but I could never say it. I covered it in silly gestures and too many words that weren’t those three. I think you saw that, somehow. You always knew everything about me.

 

The first words you ever said to me were “You talk a lot”.


End file.
